


Punishment in Paradise

by alley_oops, jennandanica



Series: Citadel: Sam Worthington and Ryan Kwanten [201]
Category: Actor RPF, Australian Actor RPF, Citadel (Journalfen RPG), True Blood RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-02
Updated: 2018-04-02
Packaged: 2019-04-17 08:22:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14184846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alley_oops/pseuds/alley_oops, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennandanica/pseuds/jennandanica
Summary: This is a re-posting (archiving) of all logs for the Sam Worthington/Ryan Kwanten storyline in the BDSM RPS RPGCitadel.





	Punishment in Paradise

**Author's Note:**

> This is a re-posting (archiving) of all logs for the Sam Worthington/Ryan Kwanten storyline in the BDSM RPS RPG [Citadel](http://citadel.dreamwidth.org/read).

When Sam starts to stir, he throws an arm over the other half of the bed only to find it empty. Cracks an eye open to check out the clock, which still reads way-too-fucking-early, and pulls Ryan's pillow over his head. But it's too late. Once he's up, he's up and besides which, he can't help wondering where his boy is. With a quick detour to the washroom for a piss, he washes his hands and splashes some water over his face, the luxury of the whole place still blowing his fucking mind even after a couple days here. 

He drags on a pair of cargo shorts and runs downstairs, checking the kitchen first and pouring himself a cup of still-fresh coffee before heading out back.

The swimming pool is heated. It's Olympic-sized, split level, and _heated_. Ryan thinks he might just have dropped into heaven. So even though it's a cold December morning, he's out at dawn, working on his backstroke. And every few minutes he pauses to just float on his back for several seconds, smiling dreamily up at the lovely early morning sky.

"You look happy," Sam says with a grin, coming to stand beside the pool. 

Startled from his thoughts, Ryan stands up, his feet seeking the bottom. Then he smiles at his lover. "What's not to be happy about?" he asks. "This place is absolutely amazing. And you're the one who brought me here."

Sam sets his coffee down on the patio and then settles at the edge of the pool, dangling his feet in the water. "I'm glad you like it," he says. "It's probably way more place than we need but when I saw that kitchen and the lake..." He shrugs. "I knew I had to have it for you."

Ryan moves through the water to the edge where Sam is sitting. "And you know what else?" he says, gently closing his fingers around Sam's ankles, just to touch. "I was thinking last night that the house is _so_ big, we could probably have our families come to visit and not even worry about the noise. You know? Like, shove the parents all the way down to the end of the east wing, and then just scream away."

Sam laughs. "Yeah, that would work, and our dads would be a lot fucking happier." He crooks a finger at Ryan, leaning down for a kiss. "We could also have some really friggin' awesome parties here."

"Parties... who would we invite?" Ryan asks with a grin, then pushes up for another kiss. "I think it'd be a small exclusive guest list, if we're keeping it to people who won't freak out that we're living together."

"None of the people we know through Citadel will freak out," Sam says. "Plus no one'd have to know any more than they do now." Although a whole weekend, which it would have to be up here, without touching Ryan... "Scratch that. I couldn't keep my hands off you for a whole fucking weekend."

"Reason enough to only invite people who already know," Ryan teases, but he loves every word. He rubs his wet cheek against Sam's calf. "I'd be a terrible host if you weren't touching me, and I knew it was their fault."

"You did pretty well putting up with Tom," Sam says, then slides from the ledge into the water, cargo shorts still on. "Speaking of which, I had an email from him and he's going to be headed our way in L.A. sometime in the next few weeks."

"Oh, yeah?" Sam's probably looking for a more definite response than that, but Ryan's too busy wrapping his arms around his lover, blissfully warm in the heated pool. "Mmm," he hums happily, grazing his lips over Sam's throat. Then, "Oh. Is he going to stay with us?"

Hesitating longer than he probably should, Sam nods. "Yeah."

"Okay." Ryan's answer sounds a lot calmer than it should, but then, he's not really focused on the issue right now. "So, um, just give me a heads-up when he says he's actually on his way in, and I'll mess up the guest room to make it look like I actually live there." And triple-check that the lock on the playroom door is ironclad, right.

Sam blows out a breath, burying a hand in Ryan's hair as he tilts his head back, giving his boy better access to his throat. Ryan sure as hell took that news a lot better than he thought he might. "Mm. Fuck, that feels good." His free hand slipping between them, fingers wrapping around Ryan's cock. 

Ryan shudders, his body jerking in surprise at the sudden touch. "Do we have to hold another orgy at the house? I really really don't want him bringing random women home again."

"We can tell him he has to go to their place," Sam says quickly, slowly stroking, because thankfully, he's actually thought this through. "And I'm with Natalie, even if she's not there, and I was thinking," okay, so this is the part he's not so thrilled with, "I was thinking we should hire one of the in-house girls and have her pose as your girlfriend while he's here."

"What?" Shocked by the suggestion, Ryan puts his hands on Sam's shoulders and actually pushes his lover back. Not very far, true, but still. "One of the Citadel subs, you mean?" The idea would never have occurred to him. 

Sam nods. "Yeah. You wouldn't actually have to do anything with her - kiss her, fondle her, but she'd know why you weren't fucking her and you wouldn't have to feel guilty about the whole thing."

Biting down on his bottom lip, Ryan stares at his lover. "...Do you think it's necessary?" he asks, eventually. But obviously, Sam does think so. And Ryan's got a horrible feeling that he's right.

"I think it's easier than making excuses for why he can't take you bar hopping and picking up chicks," Sam says, grabbing Ryan's hips and pulling him in closer again. "Natalie'll get me off the hook but that still leaves you, and I don't want Tom making your life hell while he's here."

Slowly, Ryan nods. "Yeah. Yeah, I get that," he whispers, and slips his arms back around Sam's waist. "Is he going to give you a lot of grief, though? For not partying with him?"

Sam shrugs. "I'll probably have to go and get pissed with him a couple of times but at least he'll lay off wanting me to fuck around."

"Okay." Ryan nods again, then guides Sam's hand to begin stroking his cock once more. "I... I think I might skip out on that bit," he says softly, and leans in to suck gently on Sam's bottom lip. "Let you two reconnect. Bond, all that."

"He already asked about you coming out with us, so I think you're on the hook for at least once but we could always have your 'girlfriend' call and you could spend the night at Cit," Sam suggests, rubbing his thumb over the head, the water easing his path.

"Maybe we should just bring my girlfriend out with us. Hell, Tom could sleep with her," Ryan suggests, bucking gently into Sam's grip.

"Be careful suggesting that," Sam says with a laugh, slipping his other hand between Ryan's thighs, cupping his balls. "You might end up in bed with both of them. As long as none of that gay stuff happens," he teases, rolling his eyes.

"Yeah, don't worry--" Ryan cuts himself off with a soft groan, his eyes slipping shut. He slips his hands lower to cup Sam's ass, and clarifies, "Tom told me very plainly that he's not into faggots."

Christ. "Seriously? That's what he said?" 

"Yeah. When someone uses that word with me, I tend to vividly remember it," Ryan murmurs, and leans in to kiss Sam's throat.

"Fucking bastard," Sam breathes, his hands stilling again. "If I'd been there, I would've given him what for."

Bemused - and a touch anxious - Ryan takes a step back in the water, letting go of his lover entirely. "Yeah, but, I mean-- I'm not trying to be cheeky here, but, what for?" he asks, studying Sam's eyes. "You couldn't have gone raging in there to protect my homo honor without revealing it, you know?"

"It wouldn't have been to protect your honour," Sam says, ducking his head a little. "It's just not a word anyone should use. Especially not my fucking mates."

"Your fucking mates, who think you're straight?" Ryan asks, his tone gentle. He links his fingers with Sam's, and kisses his lover softly on the lips. "You don't use the word. That's good enough for me."

Sam's glad Ryan's okay with it, but he's still not. It's like hearing one of your mates use the N-word. Or at least it is to him. "Okay," he says quietly, dropping the matter for now. "Love you."

"I love you, too," Ryan says softly, putting his arms around Sam's neck and letting the water take him closer. "Want to fuck me in our wine cellar?"

"Yeah, but not right now," Sam says, unfastening his cargo shorts which have become downright uncomfortable. He pushes them down and kicks them free from his feet. "Right now, I want to fuck you here," he murmurs, sliding his hands to the back of Ryan's thighs. "Did you prep?"

"Of course. Sir," Ryan answers, his lips curving. "Although I was planning on redoing the job once I went inside."

"I'll let you do that, but right now..." Sam murmurs, hiking Ryan's legs up around his hips, the buoyancy of the water helping nicely. "I want to fuck you here, and you're not going to come."

"I'm not?" Ryan asks, startled. He locks his ankles together at the small of Sam's back. "May I ask why, Sir?"

"Because I like tormenting you," Sam says, spreading Ryan's cheeks, the tip of his cock nudging against his boy's hole. It's not the only reason but it'll do.

_Talk about torment..._ "Ahh... okay, Sir," Ryan gasps, wriggling in the water and trying to get his lover to penetrate him deeper.

"You want my cock?" Sam teases, letting Ryan have the head but no more, his fingers digging into his boy's skin as he holds him in place. "Even though you're not getting to come?" 

The answer is automatic. "Y-- yes!" Ryan answers, and the logic of Sam's question only filters through a second later. _Fuck!_ He's just so well-conditioned: if Sam's cock is available, then Ryan wants it buried inside him. Somehow.

"Yes what?" Sam prompts, pulling back, his cock popping from Ryan's hole.

"Yes, Sir," Ryan gasps, his fingertips scrabbling for purchase on Sam's wet shoulders. He licks his lips and searches his lover's eyes. "Please, Sir. Please fuck me."

Sam nods. That's what he wanted. To hear those words. Hear that please. He pushes back in, slowly, pulling Ryan down to meet him until he's all the way in, cock throbbing in the tight heat of Ryan's body.

Ryan whimpers loudly, dropping his head back. Tightening his legs around his sir he begins to move, the water lapping at them as he rises and falls on Sam's cock.

"Good boy," Sam murmurs, leaning back against the wall, his legs braced at an angle so he doesn't interfere with Ryan's movements. "That's it," he groans, the sound welling up from deep in his chest.

"Fuck, you feel so good inside me," Ryan whispers, the words spilling carelessly from his lips. He shuts his eyes, focusing all his senses on his lover, taking Sam in again and again.

"Keep talking like that and I might change my mind about letting you come," Sam says, leaning in and getting his mouth on Ryan's throat, teeth dragging over his skin as he lets his lover ride him.

_Really?_ "Ohgodyesplease," Ryan mumbles, and it's for the touch of Sam's mouth just as much as it is hope that he'll be given permission. "Please, Sir. Please bite your boy."

Fuck yes. Sam licks over that same spot and then fastens his mouth on it, letting his teeth dig in, tight and then tighter, purposely breaking the skin, the tinge of copper bursting on his tongue as he drives up into his boy, meeting each and every drop with a thrust of his own.

Ryan shouts and the sound seems to hang in the still morning air, disturbing flocks of birds who flap out of the trees. It hurts, it's a savage feral pain, and Ryan craves it from this man and this man only. His hips surge and he fucks himself frantically on his sir, wild now with the scent of blood in the air.

Sam sucks harder, hands spreading Ryan's cheeks so he can slam in even harder, their movements desperate, raging towards completion. 

In a moment like this, there's no possible way Ryan can control himself. He's purely physical now, not a single brain cell left to monitor self-control (or the lack thereof). Completely overwhelmed he shouts again, his muscles rhythmically clamping down around Sam's cock as he spills into the water, his orgasm shuddering through him.

There's no holding back after that. Sam comes with a roar, his mouth bloody, his cock pulsing hotly inside his boy, filling him with spurt after hot thick spurt.

Ryan feels golden, colored fireworks still exploding behind his eyelids. But even so, there's a sick awareness of his mistake. "Thank you," he whispers, dragging his eyes open to look at Sam. "I'm sorry, Sir. Your boy is sorry."

"I know you are," Sam says, holding Ryan close, "and I also know I pushed you, but I can't let it go every time." 

Ryan nods as well. "I know, Sir. I'm not asking you to."

"If we were home, I'd put you in a cage for a day," Sam says, thinking his options through, "but I don't have anything like that here." 

His cheeks flush hot, and Ryan drops his gaze. He can still feel his lover inside him, thank god. At least he hasn't been shoved away.

The way Ryan drops his gaze makes Sam feel like shit, but he perseveres, knowing it's better for them both if he takes a firm stand on this. "So for the rest of the day, whenever I would've fucked you or used your mouth, I'll use my hand instead and you'll just watch."

The tears flood unexpectedly, and Ryan jerks away, blinking hard and swiping the back of his hand over his eyes. "Yes, Sir," he whispers, and nods to show that he understands. "May I please ask, Sir, when exactly this punishment will end?"

"Tomorrow morning. Minute you're up," Sam says, wanting nothing more than to change his mind. And making sure he says 'you're' and not 'we're' or 'I'm'. 

"Yes, Sir," Ryan nods again. "And... if..." He takes a deep breath, not wanting to even ask, but needing to know. "Is your boy allowed to touch you at all today? May he share your bed tonight?"

Fuck. The question and the look on Ryan's face just tear him apart. "Of course you can," he murmurs. "I can't imagine what you'd have to do for me to kick you out of bed, but it'd have to be a hell of a lot worse than coming without permission."

"Okay," Ryan whispers. He shivers as a chill breeze touches his damp shoulders, and finally manages to look up at his lover's face again. "Can I have a hug? Please?"

Sam wraps his arms around Ryan and hugs him so fucking hard, one hand sliding up into the back of his hair. "I love you so much," he whispers fiercely. "No matter what. Don't you ever forget that. Even when I'm punishing you."

"I know," Ryan replies, hanging on just as tightly. "I know." He doesn't doubt Sam's love. But he's thinking back to another time he came without permission, the first time he and Sam played with needles. He received this same punishment then, and all he can think of is how fucking miserable it was. Painful and shaming and demoralizing, all in one. 

He really should have learned his lesson then.

* * *

"Fuck, this place rocks," Sam says, grinning widely at Ryan as he sinks his second to last ball. They're playing pool in _their_ games room. The one with the dart board, pinball machine, pool table, foosball, gaming consoles and more. Hell, he could spend a whole day in here.

"Yeah," Ryan agrees - like he could disagree? - leaning against the edge of the polished wood bar. Because of course, it all goes together: the games, the massive flat-screen TV, the beers on tap. It's the ultimate Man Cave. He idly wonders if he should buy a shotgun, just to hide it behind the bar. Maybe he wouldn't even have to load it... "Sorry?" Sam's voice snaps him back out of his thoughts. "Oh, I thought for sure you had that one," he says, leaning over the billiards table and angling his cue. He takes a shot at one of his four remaining balls, then groans when he scratches. "Fuck," he mutters, and protests, "I was always good at maths. In general, I mean. But I sucked at geometry."

"I sucked at school, period," Sam says with a smile. "So, you're ahead of me." He sinks his last ball and then the eight ball in quick order. "Again, or do you want to do something else?" 

"I'm not playing pool with you again, you cheat," Ryan protests, but his voice is mild. He nods towards the television and the game consoles. "But I will completely take your ass in Grand Theft Auto. Triple insane stunt bonus, bitch."

"No fucking way," Sam retorts, rolling his eyes. "Your ass is the one about to get taken." Racking the balls and putting their cues away. "Set us up."

Crouching in front of the massive entertainment unit, Ryan takes a couple moments to work out just which cords go where. But eventually he gets the PlayStation humming, firing up the game and then switching off the canned music. He's already got his phone connected to the room's built-in surround-sound speakers; he loads Pandora and lets the AC/DC worship begin.

It's a close call, both of them pulling ahead several times, but sure enough, Ryan's the one who comes out on top, Sam just shaking his head as their scores roll over the screen. "Now I know what you've been doing when I'm at work," he teases.

"Absolutely. I've actually been ordering in catered meals all this time, and just tossing all the styrofoam containers into the bin before you got home," Ryan says, selecting a different battleground for their next round. "I don't really work out, either. I'm CGI."

"I knew there had to be an explanation," Sam says, without ever once taking his eyes off the game. "No one human could look as good as you."

"Ha! Suckers!" Ryan shouts, leading two police cars to smash into a low brick wall which his Impala clears easily. He quickly glances aside at Sam. "You're not going to flatter me into taking a dive."

"No?" Sam asks, cursing under his breath as his car scrapes its whole side against another police car. "What if I pull my cock out and start to jerk off? Would that break your concentration?"

Ryan's head snaps around in an instant -- and his car crashes into a diesel truck, immediately exploding into flames. "Fuck," he mutters, dropping his controller to the carpet. How completely fucking weak is he? Sam didn't even have to open his pants.

Sam grins. He sets his controller aside and rubs a hand over his crotch, stroking himself through his jeans.

Chewing on his bottom lip, Ryan anxiously attempts to recall the finer details of his punishment. Is he supposed to actually _watch_ when Sam wanks? Or is he just supposed to be present, and thus hyper-aware that he's being denied the opportunity to pleasure his sir? Both, probably. He curls up into a ball at the opposite end of the couch, wrapping his arms around his knees and turning to watch Sam.

Fuck. Sam has a suspicion he shouldn't enjoy this part as much as he does. Stroking himself though the denim, exaggerating every touch, every groan, his eyes on Ryan's face as his boy watches.

Ryan's mouth tightens into a frown, and he's working to keep it from devolving into a full-on sulk. But damn it! This fucking sucks so damn much. Which, of course, is the whole entire point, but _still_. He stares at Sam's jeans intently, watching for the rise of his cock beneath.

Following Ryan's gaze, Sam tugs open the button on his jeans, sliding down the zipper slowly, a deliberate tease, his cock freed and fingers wrapped around it.

A small involuntary sound escapes Ryan's lips -- more a whimper than anything else. He doesn't even think about it when he licks the corner of his mouth, he just does. Staring.

Slowly sliding his hand up and down, Sam groans, pushing his hips into his own touch. He should have thought to grab some lube but this'll do. It's not like it's going to take him long anyway. 

It's fucking hot, watching Sam wank. Under better circumstances, Ryan definitely would enjoy it more. As it is he catches himself unconsciously mimicking the motion of Sam's hips, and he forces himself to stop.

His hand moving faster, his strokes growing rougher, Sam curses softly under his breath, his head falling back, his gaze still trained on his lover. "Oh, fuck, so close," he murmurs, hips hitching into his fist.

"Please." Ryan's mouth forms the word, but there's no voice behind it. His own prick throbs with need. "Sir, please."

"No, not this time," Sam says, groaning raggedly as his cock stiffens and then spurts, hot and thick, over his fingers, coating them with white.

Ryan moans softly, staring. "Sir," he whispers. "May your boy please clean you up?"

"No." Sam shakes his head. "You can get me a tissue."

_Fuck_. Ryan shuts his eyes tight and sets his jaw, holding back on any audible comment. Hot shame flushes through him and he gets to his feet, aiming himself for the nearest bathroom. He returns with an entire box of Kleenex, and hands it to Sam silently.

"Thanks," Sam says, cleaning up and tucking himself back into his jeans. "You want to play more of this," motioning at the game that's ended without them, "or watch a movie, or what?" He knows he's making Ryan unhappy, and truth be told, he's making himself unhappy too, but rules are rules, even if he's pretty lax about them a lot of the time.

Chewing on his bottom lip for a long moment, Ryan considers. "If we watch a movie," he says finally, "can I curl up with you? Nothing sexual," he adds instantly. "I mean, I won't try anything. I just... I just want to be touching you."

Sam nods. "You can touch me all you want," he says, holding his hand out to Ryan. "It's only the sexual stuff that's off limits today." Of course, keeping the two separate usually proves hard as hell for the both of them. He can't even remember the last time they made it through a movie without someone coming. Maybe the time he punished Ryan like this - which was eons ago.

"Thank you, Sir," Ryan whispers, taking his lover's hand. He sits down on the couch again and snugs up tight against Sam, pointing the remote control at the entertainment system to shut off the Playstation, then passing the satellite remote to his lover. He couldn't care less what the excuse on the television is; he just needs to cuddle up with his sir and find some reassurance that he hasn't fucked up absolutely everything.

Arm wrapped around Ryan's shoulder, Sam kisses the top of his head just because. He flicks through the guide, looking for something where it won't matter if they're paying attention or not and settles on some comedy festival. "This okay?" 

"Sure," Ryan answers absently, then checks the performer list again. "Of course, since meeting you it's very difficult for me not to associate ventriloquists with sex. I can't imagine why."

Sam laughs. "You know, fisting you here would be really hot," he says. "Out on the back patio, overlooking the grounds..." Of course he'd have to find some way for his boy to collapse safely after.

Ryan groans softly, and shifts position in his lover's arms so that he's as un-stimulated as possible. It's a rare goal. "I love you," he whispers, taking comfort in rubbing his cheek against Sam's shoulder for a moment.

"I love you too," Sam says with a smile, it washing over him anew that this is his _husband_ for Christ's sake. That he's a married man.

* * *

Ryan sleeps wrapped around his lover, although he doesn't sleep well. The day before, his punishment was agony. One of the worst that Sam could lay on him, which he figures probably makes it one of the best; hell, once or twice more going through this and he might be so paranoid that he stops having orgasms altogether, even _with_ permission. And so the second he opened his eyes to the dawn this morning, he was out of bed like a shot -- he couldn't clean himself up and prep fast enough.

"Sir," he whispers, clambering back onto the bed to straddle Sam, whom he presumes is still buried somewhere beneath a giant mound of blankets. "Sam, love. Wake up. Please."

"Hm?" Sam flops one arm over his head, dragging the covers with it.

Smiling, Ryan nuzzles in, enjoying his lover's sleepy scent. "Hey," he says softly, pressing kisses like tiny brands to Sam's shoulder, his neck. And he slides one hand down underneath the blanket to begin rubbing his sir's cock.

"Mm." This time the sound's slightly more aware, pleasure filtering through, dragging Sam to consciousness.

"Good morning," Ryan murmurs, grinning. He pulls away but only for a moment, so he can wriggle down into the bedclothes next to his sir. "It's morning," he points out, redundantly. But this is _important_.

Sam's still not sure what Ryan's getting at. From the light filtering into the room, seeping through his closed eyelids, he's guessing it's still earlier than he's been getting up. And then it hits him. Punishment's over. "Yeah," he murmurs, smiling at his lover as he finally opens his eyes to find Ryan, right there, watching him. "Morning."

Ryan can see when the awareness makes it through. "Can I do anything for you, Sir?" he asks softly, smiling and trailing a fingertip over Sam's bare shoulder.

"Mm. Mouth," Sam murmurs, licking his lips, still not fully conscious.

"Yes, Sir," Ryan says, pushing Sam to his back. He kisses his way down his lover's chest but that's really all the finesse he's got time for right now; without wasting a second, he sucks Sam's cock into his mouth.

"Fuck," spills from Sam's lips, his hand sliding into Ryan's hair, his eyes opening completely before closing again -- the better to savour.

Ryan licks like he's been hungry for days. But it feels that way to him -- having to sit back and watch his sir pleasure himself, it causes nearly palpable pain now. He's desperate to have Sam come inside him again.

Sam's fingers tighten in Ryan's hair and he tugs, groaning raggedly beneath his breath, arousal making his head spin.

A soft whimper at the stinging pull on his scalp, and Ryan nearly loses it right then, rubbing his own erection frantically against the bed's edge. He bobs his head and sucks Sam's cock in again and again, then finally opens up in invitation for his sir to use him, feeling the crown of his lover's cock strike the back of this throat.

Cursing under his breath, Sam fists both hands in Ryan's hair, driving up into his throat. He fucks deep and hard, his teeth gritted, every muscle straining towards completion...

Ryan whines brokenly, gasping for breath when he's allowed. He splays his hands against the bed, holding himself steady for every thrust.

So close he can almost taste it, Sam stills, pulling out, gripping Ryan's hair tight in his hands. "You want me to come like this, or in your ass, boy?" After yesterday, damn right he's going to give Ryan the choice.

"Sir." Ryan barely has the breath to speak, and Sam's tight hold keeps him right where he is. "Ass. Please."

Fuck yeah. Sam releases his hold on Ryan. "Ride me."

With a moan Ryan shoves the covers back and prowls up Sam's body to straddle him. He reaches down to get them lined up, taking a second or two to let the crown of Sam's cock tease the sensitive skin of his hole. And then Ryan flashes his lover a mischievous grin and slams down, taking his sir's full length in one go.

A whoosh of breath leaves Sam as he grabs at Ryan's hips, keeping his lover still for a moment, his cock throbbing dangerously inside him. "You're going to be out of luck if I come before you," he murmurs.

Ryan's eyebrows rise. "Is Sir suggesting that he'd like his boy to come first?" he asks with an impish grin.

"Sir was mostly suggesting that his boy shouldn't be quite so... enthusiastic, but yeah, he'd better come soon and he already has permission," Sam says, rubbing his thumbs over Ryan's hipbones, his cock easing up a little on its aching insistence.

"Mmm, thank you, Sir." Ryan splays his hands on either side of Sam's shoulders and begins to rock his hips, the movements sinuous, sensuous. Cracking his eyes open once more, he whispers, "May I please touch myself?"

Any other time it would be tempting to say no, to tell Ryan he had to get off like this, but after yesterday, Sam just nods, smiling, eyes locked on his lover's. "Go ahead."

"Thank you, Sir." Ryan breathes the words like a prayer. Sitting up, he lays one hand on the solid muscles of Sam's belly, and wraps his right hand around his own prick, the motion of his hips automatically picking up speed, force, to match his hand. "Sam," he gasps, his eyes shut tight, and Ryan licks his lips, letting himself spin out crazily towards the edge. Those first few blazing drops spatter over Sam's skin and he shouts. "Sir!"

That shout, those drops, go straight to Sam's cock and he yells, their voices mingling, his nails carving crescents in Ryan's skin as he unloads inside him, hot and thick and heavy.

His head tipped back, eyes screwed shut while his hand flies over his cock, Ryan nearly sobs for breath. Gradually he realizes that someone is softly moaning - "So good, so good" - but it takes another moment before he figures out that it's him. "Oh, god. Sam," he whispers, lifting himself off his lover and lying down next to him.

Sam pulls Ryan in tight, kissing the top of his head with a smile. "Better?" he murmurs.

"All better, Sir," Ryan murmurs muzzily, rubbing his lips over Sam's shoulder. "My husband. You're all I need."


End file.
